"Next cart down," the man said, and Axis noticed that he had icicles hanging off his beard.
Tucking the bowls under one arm, he felt his own face.
It was crusted with ice.
"Let me give you a hand." Zared, stumbling close by him.
Axis nodded, aiid handed him the bowls, taking more as they were passed out. If this didn't work —
and he couldn't see how getting the Skraelings drunk would aid them against the creeping death of the ice-storm — they would not see out the hour, let alone the night.
The Demons were so intent on catching the rabbits — all thought of chasing the people fleeing Sanctuary completely forgotten — that at first they did not notice the changes occurring about them.
But then the ferret that was Raspu slipped suddenly, unexpectedly, and careened into Sheol.
She turned around and gave him a sharp bite on his shoulder, and then her eyes widened.
They were running through a tunnel of earth no more, but a tunnel carved through ice.
And through the ice, tens of thousands of eyes staring at them.
Sheol squeaked, half in annoyance, half in fear, and Qeteb turned and stared.
Axis stood, shaking with cold, as a man standing in the cart above him poured out a measure of wine.
The man's exposed hands were blue, and they trembled so badly the barrel jerked and wine spilt all down the front of Axis' tunic.
"No matter, man," Axis said, "I have enough." And he stepped aside so Zared could have his bowl filled as well.
All about them were lines of men, bowls of wine in hand, stumbling out into the storm to lay the bowls in the snow a good ten paces from the carts.
Everyone else, people and creatures alike, were huddled as best they could under blankets or carts or, if small enough, under the clothes of people.
The only ones who appeared comfortable in the prevailing conditions were the Ravensbundmen and women, who laughed and jested as they did more than their fair share of filling bowls with wine and then placing them in the snow.
Gradually, as men and women stumbled back and forth in the snowy night, hundreds of wine-filled bowls were laid out down the length of both sides of the column.
As Axis struggled back to where Azhure, Katie and Ur waited, Zared a pace behind him, Ur grinned, and placed her terracotta pot on the ground before her.
"Not long to wait now," she said.
Qeteb twisted about. They were trapped in a length of ice tunnel. What magic had brought them here?
How had he been trapped? No matter, he could find his way out of here without even the ghost of an effort.
Chitter, chatter. Chitter, chatter.
Qeteb spun about again. Who was that? Behind and about him the other Demons snarled.
Chitter, chatter. Who have we here, chitter, chatter?
"Who are you?" Qeteb snarled. He did not like the feel of these beings, these eyes that stared down at him through the thick layers of ice, for they had the feel of ... the feel of free souls.
We are the Chitter Chatters, strange guest. Who are you?
"I am Qeteb, the Midday Demon, and Lord of this land!"
A strange, whispering laughter filtered through the ice. We have no lord, and we have no land.
Only this ice-bound, drifting world. A cruel world. Do you like our cruel world, strange guest?
Qeteb snarled, and struck at the ice roof above his head.
It did not even crack, and he sank back to all four paws, alternatively growling and mewling.
We do not know you, chitter, chatter. But we do not think we like you.
The Demons squirmed about in their confined space, probing for cracks and possible escape. Mot, then Barzula and Sheol, growled.
"I have had enough!" Qeteb snarled, and struck out with his power.
Nothing happened. There was a sense of withdrawal from the Chitter Chatters, and then a probing into the Demons' minds again as they came back.
Chitter, chatter, we do not like you! We were not supposed to disturb any who came here,save Skraelings —
— not whale or seal, chitter, chatter, nor Ravensbund or even any of the southerners —
— Ho'Demi charged us not to nibble at anyone's minds save the Skraelings —
